The lady in black

The train felt out of place as it set off with me at the window. Oxford rail Station looked so fresh after the night of rains. My roses for you in my hand ready to meet my James again.

The ticket collector came by to clip my ticket but ignored me huddled in the corner ,at the window all flew by and he was more interested in the gentleman who was in the wrong carriage and must have forgotten me.

The express steamed on .Cows in fields and towns flew past me we went so fast. It was then that I noticed I was already for my James even though half hour ago it was not so in my mind. No, I had rushed myself to be in this train its speed far faster than I recall of other journeys made. Metal carriages raced past me leaving me feeling out of place. That clickety clack over rails still there as it was.

The time slowly ebbing my mind racing forward to London rail station. He must be there.

Then I arrived and found the steps had been replaced by a slope that children now used as a slide. funny little wheels on their feet that sang as they sailed by me. Faster than the very wind. I moved on.

At the clock, now waiting .Then I came to my senses .How many times have I been here ,waiting, waiting for Jim . Here will be the only place to find him. The big round clock above me strikes the hour as for me the wait is over again I am called back . James in the mud fields of France and I only wanted just to find him again. Not this time it seems, my grave I have left with my rotten body. I now recall why I left it. Always that same repeat but it is my duty as his wife.

Jim .Jim ,Jim- dear Jim can you hear me dear. You promised to meet me in 1918 I have been here so often on this date, September 11th. They may not let me come again .Jim come to me please Jim. I am cold and sad and cannot find the door back.